A Solitary Fight

When the worlds at it's loudest
I'm the one lying face down.
My bullet riddled chest, eyes wide, shock,
hand tight clasping my
shot, stinging heart.
Or what's left of it...
The days have eaten away that
vast and utter longing to stay here.
And now we want the freedom.
Our war here, never ending
always crashing, banging,
killing....
Then what?
Do we stay here? Our heavey shoulders
full of the burdens we carry.
Watching the world spin in the colors
we're most familiar with
of gray and hurt and laughter
subsiding into the cruel night.
No...we have to fight.
We have to stand, stand up and shout something
without fear of being shot.
We have to be willing to take the pain,
take the bullets, take
the losses...
I've been ready for a long time but now
I'm questioning what I can do.
Is this war really something worth fighting for?
Really worth all this effort and slaving
and pain it produces?
My answer is yes.
And this,
this is why I'm a soldier.
This is why I will march on.
Farther, and farther, and farther until
they can't see me anymore
and I'm gone.